My Pride - Your Prejudice
by xxRONIxx
Summary: This is my retelling of the wonderful Pride and Prejudice story. Modern day. Main character Lizbet Raquel (Rocky) Benito. Life has always knocked her about – but when Charles Benally and Darcy William Yoon turn up, her world/her family/her Mother will never be the same.
1. Chapter 1

I vigorously attempt to wipe the caked orange mud from my boots with no success. To my amusement, because of my attempt, the splattered mud spread further up my pant legs.

 _Mother's gonna love this._

It never failed; my appearance has always bothered my mother - even when I feel confidently "appropriately dressed."

I'm the second daughter of five in the Benito family - _poor dad_. Putting my clothing choices aside, I believe the main reason I'm the "thorn in my mother's side" is because of my father. I'm my father's confidant, his right hand, his go-to person. Lucky for me when I feel not good enough in my mother's eyes, at least in my father's I'm adored. He affectionately calls me 'Lil Coyote,' his trickster.

We live in the heart of Arizona. My father, a Mexican immigrant, came to this country at age 18. He was quickly recognized for his assertiveness and no-nonsense attitude. My father learned that to survive in a country that wasn't your own, you had to have gumption, a strong spirit, and stubbornness - especially when you had a demanding wife and 5 daughters. Sadly, my mother is the kryptonite to his Superman. It has always upset me that my mother could stomp the fight right out of him.

A loud thundering crack from the sky above startles me into attention. Stomping my feet and shrugging at my muddy boots, I continue to run not caring about the wet mud I collected.

 _Mother's gonna really love my appearance today._

With every running step, I hear the wet mud scatter in various directions behind me. I feel some of the wet chucks hit me in different areas along my back.

 _Confetti Mud Party_.

This was my favorite time of the year - it's Monsoon season. The landscape/the scenery in front of me, always takes my breath away. I was in a real-life screensaver.

It took only 30 more minutes of hike-running when I felt it: Tiny raindrops peppering my face. I sigh heavily, I've already made my morning run quota and immediately change direction heading for home.

 _The party's over._

Arizona, my Arizona. I don't see myself living anywhere else. The vast desert emptiness isn't for everyone. You must have Arizona in your blood to truly appreciate everything this state has to offer. Even as a child, when I'd see pictures of beautiful Hawaii, Alaska, Montana, Sweden, New Zealand - I would stare in wonder; feeling sad for people who lived in places like that - too much green, too much bodies of water, too many clusters of houses, and too many big obstructing trees. It was never a dream to live or visit those places. I just wanted my empty desert.

I've always lived in desert areas. After finishing Marine boot camp, I was blessed to be stationed in Arizona – and during my three tours, I was sent to hot desert places; Iraq and Afghanistan, which reminded me of home (except war-torn).

As another crack from the sky above resonated, I quicken my pace. This was my favorite run. In my family, no one understood what it felt like to be a runner - yup, yet another thing to make me the black sheep of the family. None of my sisters were like me. I was the tough cookie; the no-nonsense daughter that handled everything my father could not. I'm the bossy opinionated sister. My 4 sisters on the other hand, are a different variety of wackiness, except Jean - Jean: the beautiful sweet delicate sister. Maria: the quiet God-fearing people pleaser. Kathy: the loud obnoxious annoying sister and Linda the flirtatious irksome party girl.

Sometimes I felt sorry for my parents - having to deal with each of our personalities - that could drive anyone crazy during the best of times – but then dealing with someone like my mother was difficult in-and-of-itself: _No wonder we turned out the way we did._ After a couple sessions of "secret" therapy ( _shhh no one knows I'm in therapy),_ I've come to the conclusion that everything I do in life I do opposite my mother.

At age 36, and _'GASP'_ still unmarried, my mother singles me out as the corrupter of my sisters. The chances any of us have to marry well - or at least "well" in my mother's eyes are very slim according to her. So, because of this, my mother blames the only person she can: Me. According to my mother, "Who will want to marry into a family with a crossdresser like you? Go put on a dress Rocky."

That comment always upsets me. For one thing, I wasn't a crossdresser - not that there's anything wrong with being one. And two, I'm pretty sure the term Crossdresser consists of something more than a woman who prefers wearing jeans and her old military fatigues.

In my mother's defense, she comes from a different time and place. She grew up on an Apache reservation in New Mexico. She grew up only wearing camp dresses and to this day I've never seen her wear pants or shorts. She was also brought up to marry early (because all women who are worth anything in life MARRY—and marry young) and more importantly, soon after you marry you have children (plural). Having more than one child was tradition. To us Native people, it was a must because death came hard and fast to younglings on the reservation.

Sadly, my mother clutches to her traditions/upbringing still believing a woman's place is in the home. My mother is a housewife in every sense of the word. She has never worked a day in her life. She expects us to marry VERY well for a couple reasons. The main reason is the wealth. If we marry into wealth, this will entitle her a life of luxury and comfort at our expense without the worry of losing her house or her pampered ways. My mother's desperation became unbearable after my father's accident. The accident awakened a desperate fear inside her. The fear of losing everything. Her greatest fear is that we each marry men that are not well off. She is frightened that she'll eventually loses everything she has grown accustomed to. She fears she will end up living with us in a desert hovel.

Sadly, to my mother's horror with her daughters ranging from ages 28 to 37 being unmarried and childless was very disappointing. We were not living up to her gold-digging plan. It also didn't help that her friends and family always questioned our singleness. We'd hear gems like, "What's wrong with them Betsy?" or "Do they even like….men?"

In my opinion, I do NOT need to get married or even be married to have children. AND I, certainly, don't measure my worth by how much money I make, what kind of car I drive, my marital status, or how many children I have. BUT of course, I keep this information to myself. As my therapist always tells me, "A secret's worth depends on the people from whom it must be kept."

My time in the Marines is also something my mother wants to not exist in her life. To my mother, my deepest disgrace was when I joined the Marines at the ripe young age of 18. I mainly joined the military because: 1) My ancestors fought and died for this country before it was even a United county. 2) Because I needed money for college. And 3) because it got me out of the house the fastest.

I let out another exasperated sigh as the huge black and white sign ahead of me grabs my attention. I focus on my marker and quicken my pace jumping up attempting and failing to hit the 12 foot high sign that read, "Benito Asylum." The word Ranch was deliberately scratched off and Asylum written above it on purpose. That sign always got giggles from everyone. I myself live in said asylum so it wasn't funny to me, but this sign was my marker - my one mile marker. I was one mile away from home and my bulldozer mother.


	2. Chapter 2

My legs immediately stop when I get 50 yards away from my front door. I can hear them from out here; hooting and hollering about something.

 _Great, something happened._

Debating my next move, to my left I see the smoke. From the back seat of my father's Dodge 4-door truck, I see smoke slowly escaping out the back tinted window. The window was rolled down only about an inch. This must be BIG news if my father's smoking in the back seat of his truck - in the rain no less. This hiding spot was our secret. I glance at the sky and let the rain, which is now coming down hard, hit my face.

 _I love the rain._

I slowly walk to the slightly opened window.

"What's all this about Pops?" I keep my body posture facing my house and not the truck, making it seem I'm casually standing in the rain near the vehicles.

"Get in the house Coyote. You're soaking wet."

I noticed immediately he didn't answer my question.

"Pop, what happened?" The concern for my father had me face the tinted window. He wasn't supposed to be smoking. Since his accident, his blood pressure readings have been scary high. I may be his favorite daughter, but I've warned him that he can only smoke three cigarettes a week, and we've came to the agreement that this number would decrease every 2 months.

"Some big shot is trying to buy the entire neighborhood."

"WHAT?" I try to whisperly shout, failing miserably and my father shushes me.

When my father says neighborhood, we are talking about miles and miles and miles of empty desert land – Beautiful desert that has kept its beautiful natural state. Our closest neighbors, the Lucas family, were 8 miles away from us.

More puffs of smoke escape out the window and my father continues, "I met him. He's cool."

Not wanting my father to see how upset I was, I turn away from him and focus on the front door of our house again.

"Papa. You're not selling are you? This is our home."

"I don't want to Coyote - but maybe this is for the best. You and Jean had to move out here and re-root your lives because of me. I can sell my portion of the Construction Company to Collin Junior. Maybe your mom and I can move in to one of those retirement communities. Maybe I can find myself an old rich white woman to take care of me…a good looking one." Even though his joke was funny he wasn't laughing. "You all moved back here to help out and I feel so ashamed."

"Papa, don't say that." I clear the lump in my throat – even though he snuck in that joke, this entire situation has upset him. This had to be difficult for my father. Our house my father built was enormous. He made each of us rooms – he made himself a study—he made my mother her entertaining room (away from his study, of course) and a huge family room—and bonus we were also spoiled with 7 bathrooms. The house was a single story mansion – built by my father and a few men from his construction company (a Company he built from the ground up with his long-time friend Collin Colimas Senior).

Our home was an adobe-style home that looked perfect out here in the desert—and the thought of my father selling it, breaks my heart into little pieces.

"We moved here because we love you Papa, not because of obligation. We moved back because mother needed help and you still can't work full-time. If the same happened to us, would you want us to feel bad?"

My father never had it easy. He started working at age 5 in Mexico City selling gum and newspapers at stoplights. He had 3 jobs by age 10. He used all his money to help support his younger brother and sister. Nothing came easy for my father and being in his current disabled state is crushing his spirit.

My father doesn't like talking about the accident. I'll always remember May 4th as the day I almost died of heartbreak. A completely drunk stranger changed our lives forever. My father was driving mother's Honda Civic, which he rarely did, but let's be honest my mother can't do anything herself. He gets the oil change, tire rotations, etc., (my mother has never seen the inside of a working garage). The drunk driver ran a red-light T-boning my father's side pinning him in and totaling the car. My father was in the hospital for 8 months – 3 of those months in a coma. When he was discharged we still had an additional 6 months going back and forth to have minor surgeries and for appointments. I've never been so scared in my life. As for my mother, she had a nervous breakdown staying at home crying and wailing. Because of this "breakdown", Jean and I handled everything that my mother did not. At the time, I was active in the Marines and living in Yuma on base and Jean was living in Flagstaff. Without question, we both moved back home to make sure everything was done properly as my mother wasn't paying any of the bills - personal or business, was not visiting my father in the hospital, and was not handling his construction business. She wasn't doing anything but cry and sleep. So before they lost the company and their sole income, I had to step in and take care of my father's business – making sure all the construction projects were completed and new ones started. What hit us the hardest was the court subpoena from Collin Colimas Senior, who attempted to legally take the business away from my father. It was a grueling 4 months of court appeals and attorney back-and-forth nonsense all while my father was in and out of the hospital. Luckily, my father is a shrewd businessman and created the company with Mr. Colimas in such a way that it could not be taken away from us unless Mr. Colimas bought my father's share outright. Unfortunately, running the company fell upon me as I was the only Benito that sort-of knew how to run a construction business. I currently work Construction early in the morning on Mondays and Thursdays and all day on the weekends. Luckily, I work second shift for my full-time job as a government contractor on Base so even though I'm tired I still work my butt off without question.

 _Marines are machines - Hooorah!_

Even with providing for my family and basically taking care of my mother, I seem to still be the useless daughter who amounted to nothing according to her.

Ironically, the feeling was mutual as I deeply resent her for being completely useless at a time my father needed her the most, and the resentment has festered inside me. She was the main reason I started seeing a therapist. I had so much loathing that I needed help.

As for my other sisters (besides Jean), they are as useless as my mother and they too decided to move back home making the situation worse for us. Jean and I took the responsibility of taking care of the entire family– buying the groceries, feeding them, taking my father to every doctor's appointment, and even washing their clothes (Jean does this – I suggested we throw my sisters dirty clothes in the trash). It is not surprising that my therapy sessions have tripled since I moved back home.

Even with the heavy rain pouring down and the sporadic thunder cracking above, I jumped at the sound my front door made as it slammed against the house. I recoil at the sight of my angry mother standing fierce with hands on her hips from the doorway.

"ROCKY - get in here NOW and stop lingering like a hobo. WHERE IS YOUR FATHER?"

My inner cringe went into overdrive the moment I saw my mother scowling at me from the front door waiting for an answer. It took everything in me to not roll my eyes at her - because 1) I was an adult and adult woman don't roll their eyes at their mothers, right? and 2) She was wearing her glasses and would be able to see my 36-year-old eyes roll. By her current irritated mood, I didn't want to poke the angry bear.

"WELL? Where is your father? AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST STANDING THERE LIKE A DUMMY? AND why do you look like a pig that just rolled around in its own filth? GET IN HERE. I HAVE SOME NEWS."

Without looking back at my father's truck, I slowly march toward my mother.

 _Pops owes me, BIG TIME._

My mother slams the door when she sees me advancing toward her. I slow my pace and kick muddy rocks out my way as I head to the back of the house. I'm not allowed to enter the front of the house in this state. My entrance is through the mud room in back. The mud room was specifically made for me – to change and to keep my dirty boots and clothes in. The mud room resembles a huge shower – except in the place of a shower head, a long hose connected the sink near the washing machine where I spray the mud off me and my boots. The drying rack near the window usually has a collection of my wet non-muddy things.


	3. Chapter 3

Wearing a clean pair of boots and a clean but bleach stained t-shirt and jeans, I slowly walk through our large kitchen grabbing an apple on the counter loudly crunching my way toward my family. The moment I enter the foyer, my mother takes one look at me: my puffy cheeks filled with apple, my clothes, and my military boots then rolls her eyes.

 _No fair. Woman in their late 50's can roll their eyes?_

Glancing around the room I notice a few things that agitate me. I notice my younger sisters sitting on couches and Jean sitting on the floor. _Argh!_ She is sometimes too sweet for her own good. I shake my head and advance over to Kat and Linda, who are on the long couch stretched out like two queens with eyes glued to their iPhones. I stand over them glaring.

"MOVE!" I grunt.

Both my sisters quickly move and sit on the floor across from us grumbling their displeasure of being forced to move. I sit in the center of the couch and pat the cushion next to me for Jean. A tired gentle grin brightens her face as she shakes her head in mock disapproval. She slowly gets up and sits next to me - placing her head on my shoulder looking exhausted. Like me, she worked double shifts most of the week, but unlike me her fragile body didn't like it.

 _Mother better make this quick._

I finally look at my mother, who was surprisingly sitting quietly next to Maria on the love seat. Mom's look of irritation was ever present on her face. _No surprise_. I had moved her beloved Linda from her throne.

She clears her throat. _Here it comes._

"WHERE is your father Rocky?"

I shrug in fake confusion at my mother.

She loudly and dramatically sighs. "We are all going shopping tomorrow. ALL OF US." She emphasizes 'US' by pointing at me.

 _Why is it that I want to roll my eyes like a child every time she talks? I need to ask my therapist._

"But why does Rocky have to go Mommy. She won't get anything."

My mother temporarily looks at Linda and smiles, but then whips her head at me as she continues.

"We are ALL getting formal dresses. We are invited to a fancy gathering and you are ALL going. AND you are ALL going to dress formal – in DRESSES."

I only had a chance to open my mouth before my mother cut me off and continued, "Don't start ROCKY. This soiree is very important. The Lucas family and The Che family will be there."

 _So what_. _They see me all the time in my fatigues or jeans. Who cares?_

"It'll be at Nether Fields, and your sisters will have great opportunities at this event. More importantly Mr. Benally will be there."

She said the name Mr. Benally with so much excitement as if that name should mean anything to us. We all stared at her in clueless confusion. We did know what Nether Fields was. It's a very upscale restaurant (because of the strict dress code, my kind are not welcome there). Nether Fields was featured on one of those Food channel specials – Nothing on the menu is under $75.

"You know Charles Benally, from the Benally family? The millionaires from the Navajo reservation near the four corners. He is the new owner of Nether Fields. At 37, Charles Benally is a handsome, single millionaire."

My sisters erupted in boisterous joy with each of them swarming my mother with rapid questions and grabbing their phones to research more legit info.

I finally just roll my eyes. From the calm steady way Jean is breathing, I know she's sleeping. I would like to do more than just roll my eyes but refrain from anything that would bring us negative attention. I want to give Jean sometime to sleep while my mother and sisters chatter on about this Charlie chap.

It took only 20 minutes for my mother to finally notice us. She took her eyes off Linda's phone - they were Googling Charlie; his fortune, and if he had a girlfriend or kids. Apparently, he was a good-looking bachelor; he has his own millions, owns several businesses, and has no wife or children.

In my head, I couldn't forget the part where my mother said he was Navajo (Dine). The Navajo (Dine) people are notorious for sticking to their own kind and rarely married a non-Navajo, especially a half Mexican. Getting hot and bothered over this chap was pointless.

My mother glared at me and then at sleeping Jean and she angrily shook her head.

Knowing my mother for 36 years, I knew this was the sign of an oncoming scolding.

"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW ROCKY? ARE YOU HAPPY THAT YOUR SISTERS ARE ALL STILL SINGLE?"

I stayed quiet. My mother's yelling didn't wake Jean, so I held in my snide reply.

"ANSWER ME."

At this volume, Jean jumped up and snorted - looking like a lost deer with eyes wide and scared.

I pat Jean's hand that rested on her lap and she focused on me as a warm smile crossed her face before turning toward our mother.

"Mom, why are you yelling at Rocky?" Jean's soft, sleepy, caring voice hushed Mother.

"Jean, how could you defend her? Don't you remember what happened with your fiancé? He didn't want to be a part of a family with a crossdresser. He didn't want to taint his gene pool. "

I glared at my mother and heard Jean take in a breath and gasp. "That is not what happened mother. How could you say such a thing? Besides, Brian was not my fiancé. I was the one who broke up with him and it wasn't because of Rocky or her love of wearing fatigues. Brian was abusive and controlling. How could you want me to be with a man like that, no matter how rich he was?"

"Well you can believe what you want, but the day you two broke up, he had commented that Rocky was the eyesore of the family-dressing like a man..."

He was only bitter because I broke his nose. He was drunk and yelling at Jean for wearing something he didn't like. We were at a bar in Flagstaff when he grabbed her arm trying to yank her outside to his car, I then took this opportunity to show him what happens to someone who treats my sister like this and punched him in the face—knocking him out and breaking his nose.

"…He said we had 4 beautiful daughters and one ugly son." My mother pointed at me when she said the word son.

This wasn't the first time I heard this story - my mother actually liked telling anyone in hearing distance. Humiliation was my mother's arsenal of choice – my mother loved trying to humiliate me. I learned at a very young age to suck it up and play her game – I simply put more fuel to the fire, and I'd tell my mother and anyone she told that if I were born male I'd have been born very handsome. I take offense to the fact that he claimed I was an ugly man.

Jean quickly places her hand on my leg as I sat up to argue my handsomeness. Jean's small hand always stops me in my tracks. I was the bull in the China shop and she was the voice of reason—so I calmed myself.

"Mother, whatever that horrible man said about Rocky, it was wrong of you to not defend her. I do not blame Rocky and you shouldn't either and I would appreciate it if you would stop retelling what he said. It doesn't shed good light on any of us: Me for dating that monster or you for not protecting your second daughter from his verbal attack. Rocky is the victim here Mother."

My mother lets out a pig-like snort. "ROCKY - go find your father. I want him here NOW. We have things to discuss as a family."

I slowly get up, clutching my fists. I was so angry to the point of wanting to break something. I carefully open the door without closing it, and head out into the rain - passing the cars, passing my marker, passing the road that heads into town, walking toward my hidden haven. I begin to run the moment I hear my father holler for me.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time I reach my perch, it's dark. When I was a kid, my father hated when I'd stay out here in the dark. Even as a small child, my father never followed me. He knew I needed to be away: away from my chaotic home, away from the noise, away from the reminder that I wasn't like my sisters, away from the fact that my mother hated me.

On our property, there were many HUGE scattered rock formations. My hidden haven is on one of these structures with a perch on the left side. My perch had me facing the beautiful untouched desert and not my home. After a short climb, you can find my perch - a little cave that fits two sitting adults - a younger me could fit here perfectly for overnight stays. When adult me stays here overnight, I wake up with really bad neck/back pain. The top of the cave had a lip that folded upwards and it sheltered me perfectly from the rain. When I was younger, I'd imagine my Apache ancestors using this perch for shelter.

With my legs tucked in my cave uncomfortably, I lie in the fetal position facing my desert. I close my eyes letting the nothingness of sleep consume me.

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"Rocky."

My eyes flash open as Charlyne's quiet voice awakens me. I quickly realize two things. One: I'm FREEZING. Two: Every inch of me is soaking wet and I'm unable to stop my body from shaking. I let out a deep sigh remembering why I was in my cave. My stiff and cold body slowly descends my perch. As I near the earth below, I jump down. With a loud thud, my boots slightly sink in the wet mud.

Charlyne lights my path toward her. She is using the high-powered military-issued flashlight I gave her for Christmas last year. On a clear night, the moon is my nightlight, but at present it's covered by pillowy/puffy dark rain clouds. I glance up at the sky and sigh, it had stopped raining.

Charlyne loudly giggles as every sloshy step I take sounds similarly to flatulence.

Everything on me feels soggy and heavy. Every step feels as if I'm moving in slow motion. My teeth continue to loudly chatter together and I can't help but giggle too at how ridiculous I probably look and sound.

As I near Charlyne Lucas, I jokingly stretch out my arms for a hug and she leaps away from me. We both dip and dive around each other. Me trying to get her muddy and her trying to escape.

"Rocky…No! I want to stay dry and clean." To her advantage she is currently much quicker than I am. Running around with wet clothes that seem 50 pounds heavier is a bad idea when you're trying to catch someone.

After about 30 seconds of this, I stop and slowly walk toward my home following her single light beam.

"Hey Char – it looks like you have a really long lightsaber."

She stops in her tracks and shuts off her light. I loudly laugh knowing full well saying that would make her furious.

"How dare you? How dare you mention that revolting franchise?"

She waits for an apology. I wait too – to see where she's going with this.

She quickly points her high-powered light beam at my face and I protectively shut my eyes.

"WOW…Char. Really? You want to blind me now. Geez, sorry."

"AND." Her semi-irritated tone had me laughing again as the Stadium-like light beams continued to blaze on my face.

"I'm sorry I said you were holding the world's most useless make-believe weapon. I'm sorry I mentioned the word lightsaber."

"AND"

"All hail Star Trek." With my eyes closed shut I give her my best cheesy smile and flash her the universal Spock hand gesture, and she removes the light from my face.

"So… what happened Rocky?"

I slowly walk toward her light and shake my head. That's an open-ended question. She doesn't wait for an answer and we quietly continue to walk toward my home.

"Did my Pops call you?"

"You know he did. It's almost midnight and he knows you're soaking wet out here running around like some wild Apache woman."

I giggle at her Apache woman jab. I didn't consider this remark an actual jab as this is what my mother calls me all the time and my mother is APACHE.

"She's on a rampage Char. RAAAMMMMPAGE. Who gives a flip that Mr. Bengolly or whatever his name is, is here? Who cares?"

Charlyne giggled, "It's Benally and don't you know who he is?"

"No I don't know who he is and I don't care. Is he a war hero that deserves recognition? Is he a Native that gives back to the community? Is he…"

"Yes." Charlyne chimed in before I could finish my last complaint.

"What?"

"He is some sort of war hero and he gives back to the Native community. He's been building After-school facilities for different Navajo clans for years."

 _Sigh._ "You are not helping Char. I want to complain about this Bozo until I'm blue in the face."

It took a full 10 seconds for Charlyne to compose herself – her laugh was one from deep inside her chest, the kind that made tears come out and I couldn't help but laugh with her.

"Bozo, Rocky really? Are we in the 1960's now?"

"Argh! Don't you know Char? My mother is forcing us ADULT woman to this gathering."

"Yea, my folks too. Mom really wants me to impress. She took me to this bridal shop to get a cocktail dress, but saw this really beautiful wedding dress and without asking bought it for me to wear. I am soooooo mortified."

I frown at my best friend who's been my BF since elementary. I was a first grader and she was in fourth – and we had one thing in common, we had no friends besides our siblings. Our lonely souls instantly gravitated toward each other.

Sadly, we are no longer children and age/time are not our friends. Char was turning 40 this year – she too is unmarried and childless, and I knew still being single bothered her greatly. Her parents, like my Mother, had found the perfect way to humiliate her when it came to finding a partner and her opinions and feelings meant nothing.

"But you wear dresses all the time Char, should be no big deal."

"WHAT? Rocky, did you even hear me? We are talking about a flipping wedding dress. Does buying a beautiful wedding dress for a one night dinner gathering make sense? How does that make sense? This is sooooo embarrassing. I'm gonna feel like a hanging slab of pork at a chicken butcher shop."

I laughed so hard my head went back to laugh. "What the heck does that even mean Char? Why are you pork and what is a Chicken butcher shop weirdo?"

"I was trying to be funny and off-the-cuff."

"You nailed it my friend."

We hit my marker where she parked her Volvo and Char flashes her light on our sign giggling.

"So Rocky, you're taking me, right?"

I knew why she said this, her father and mother would expect her to ride with them hassling her to flirt with Charles the entire way and then to embarrass Char further, they would ask Charles to take her home. She flashes her light in my direction (not my face) and she knows instantly.

"Rocky Benito, you better go. You're my best friend you have to take me. You can't feed me to the wolves."

I snort and smirk at her. "You'll be fine. You'll look beautiful in your wedding dress…Ouch." Char might be thin and frail-looking but she has a mean punch. I rub my arm, trying to ease the pain. "That hurt you monster."

"Seriously Rocky, if you don't go I will…I'll…punch you in the face." With her light beam aiming at the ground in front of me it made her look like she was glowing in the dark. She waved her small boney fist at me. Serves me right for teaching her how to properly throw a punch.

I grunt a laugh, "Ooooo scary. FINE. You big bully."

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Unfortunately, my mother heard from Suzy Che that Ms. Lucas bought her daughter, Charlyne, a beautiful wedding dress for the soiree and this sent my mom into a two hour argument with my father of how we needed to head over to a bridal shop and get dresses that would "blow Char's dress out the water".

I've actually seen the "wedding" dress in question, and it IS a beautiful dress. It doesn't scream wedding dress, but it's does look like a pageant dress.

So… on the morning of our forced shopping date, I unfortunately had to work overtime and couldn't make the Bridal shop appointment – _Bummer, I know_.

I text my mother:

 _RockyRockyPiper -_ _Today 3:42 p.m._

 _I am unable to attend your Bridal shop appointment. I have mandatory overtime. Please accept my deepest apologies._

 _Love, Rocky Piper._

 _Mother Dearest -_ _Today 4:44 p.m._

 _If you don't show up at our appointment, I'll personally go on Base and drag you out by your hair._

 _Love, Mother Dearest._

I couldn't help but laugh at that. _Cute Mom, real cute_. I may not be active in the military anymore, but I AM a contracted government worker which means I make double what I used to make (doing the same work), I still get to work inside base, and bonus I am able to work with my old unit – which means _good luck mom getting into base to drag me out_. I also work almost 2 hours away from home. I've been commuting back and forth to Yuma since I moved back.

 _RockyRockyPiper -_ _Today 4:49 p.m._

 _Why are you so mean Woman? I have to work Mother – it is my duty. I will buy something tomorrow morning before the party._

 _Thanks for your patience and understanding._

 _Love, Rocky Piper_

One hour, two hours, three hours – no response from my mother. She probably threw a fit and my father is probably hiding from her in his truck.

"Hey…give it back Thompson." Eric Thompson, one of the kids I'm training, steals my phone. Lucky for me, it's on the locked screen.

"Who are you texting BennyBennyBennito? I thought you were single?" He attempts to unlock my phone, then curses and tries again all while singing his BennyBennyBennito song he made up when we were in Iraq. I quickly snatch my phone out his hand.

"None of your business Soldier, get back to work."


	5. Chapter 5

Lynned13: To answer your question, "why are they so old?" LOL :D Answer: My story takes place in modern day America. So I couldn't keep them young (like in the book). In this day in age, 20 or even 27 is too young to feel like you want to desperately marry or desperately marry off your daughters. What 27-year-old would want to marry Mr. Collins (yuck)? Another example, in the book Lydia is a teenager when she runs off with that scoundrel, that would definitely get Wickham arrested for kidnapping and worse nowadays.

* * *

.

* * *

I made sure to stay on base after work – _thankfully, I technically still have a place to sleep on base_.

At 0400, like clockwork, I automatically wake up for the day (regardless that I've only just slept 3 hours – _thank you Marine Corps_ ). I quickly change into my running clothes and head out into the still dark morning. Today more than any other day, I require my morning run.

Dress shopping and a dinner party with my mother calls for the necessary mind clearing run.

After mile number 2, my body settles for walking the rest of the way toward my truck. Not surprising, this run didn't help a bit for clearing my head.

 _Maybe I should stay on base. Maybe I shouldn't go. Pops will be so furious. Char will definitely punch me in the face for deserting her. Argh!_

The 2 hour drive home was not easy. I struggled. I struggled to continue going the direction I was heading and not the direction I really wanted to (back to base). It may seem like was scared to go home, but the truth is, I just want to avoid my Mother completely before the party. I don't want to be scolded for 5 hours. Also, knowing my mother, she probably bought a dress for me anyway – A dress that was too tight and too revealing to even consider wearing.

 _Not today Satan._

I ate breakfast at my favorite 24 hour diner and picked up Char at 0900 because as she put it, no way in hell was she "waking up at 7 a.m on her day off for breakfast". She emphasized she was a toast eater and toast wasn't worth waking up early for. To me Jelly toast was the snack I ate after my 3 pancakes, a mountain of hash browns, 3 pieces of bacon, and 2 biscuits and gravy (no eggs YUCK).

* * *

Now at 1300, I'm exhausted and ready to go home. Maybe it was a bad idea to invite Char. She knows that if I don't find an dress, I can't go to Nether Fields (thankfully that stupid restaurant had a dress code policy).

"I guess I can't go Char, bummer I know." I flash her a pitiful feel-sorry-for-me face.

She threw a cute heel, which I actually approved of, at me. "We are not leaving here until we find the perfect dress to match these heels."

"Char, I'm pretty sure I've tried on every flipping dress in this place, in the mall, and in a 100 mile radius."

It never failed; most girly things looked awkward on me. I have an average figure but because of my trade I have muscles that are way past what a "normal" female body should naturally have – so dress finding is difficult for someone with my figure. I was what people called athletically built – not weightlifter big but built to fight.

We were currently at some department store in the mall; I forgot the name and didn't care. This was the tenth store we were in and I was tired and hungry. My 0700 breakfast had long past digested and Char, the maniac, was not releasing me until we found a dress.

 _Freaking Toast eater. Again, BAD idea to invite this monster to go dress shopping with me._

"Excuse me." We both turn toward the Saleswoman. "I know you two were looking for a dress, but this Capelet Jumpsuit is…"

The jumpsuit was beautiful. It covered everything it needed to. I didn't hear the designer or what type of fabric it was, I just grabbed it from the woman and shouted my thank yous as I ran toward the dressing room.

The jumpsuit was indeed beautiful. The fabric is a sort of silky material, although everything feels silky to me.

"How do you like it Rocky? Here are the heels."

Char placed the heels at the bottom of the dressing stall.

If I kept my legs together, the jumpsuit looked like a flowy canary yellow sundress. The "cape" part was long and flowy hitting my elbows. I loved the high neck lacy top, which opened in the back with a thin yellow string holding it together at the top dangling down mid-back. I loved it.

"May I come in Rocky?"

I unlocked the latch and Char gasped.

"What….What happened?" I turned toward her shocked face.

"You look GREAT Rocky. Yellow looks beautiful with your skin tone. You look like a prettier version of Pocahontas. Sit."

I shrugged. I've never been compared to a Disney Princess. I myself have a hard time relating to them. My philosophy is, "Who needs a prince, give me a sword and move out the way while I rescue us." If I had to relate to a Disney character it would be Aladdin or Simba – the rebellious street rat or the outcast runaway cub.

I sat on the velvet chair that faced the dressing room mirror and Char undid my waist-length braid and styled my hair in a bun-type hairstyle with wispy pieces of hair that were scattered around my face.

"So you think they'll let me in dressed like this?" I smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

"Of course Rocky. You'll make me in a wedding dress look like an overdressed peacock."

"No worries Char. I'll always be the plump turkey among a pen of swans. You are safe."

Char poked my side and I take one last look at myself feeling girly for the first time in my life.


	6. Chapter 6

Darcy Yoon tensely watched the sun rise and felt somewhat resentful. He'd been up since 3 a.m. and his view was not improving as the minutes passed. He'd been watching this view for 2 hours in complete disgust wishing he had the power to change it. He cursed himself for not having a good enough excuse to decline coming to this dreadful land. He had to remind himself several times that he was here to help Charles. Darcy was an estate purchasing mogul and Charles desperately wanted him here assisting with all the reality dirty work.

Darcy mused that if Nether Fields Manor had been built in LA or New York, he would've paid millions for it and the restaurant that sat in front was icing on the cake.

 _Too bad Nether Fields is surrounded by this hideously bare desert. It's ruining everything,_ Darcy muttered to himself.

It wasn't Charles fault, Darcy thought. Charles didn't know about the promise. Darcy promised himself to never visit places that reminded him of a time when his life changed forever. He promised himself never to come to areas that took his thoughts back to a time and place where his memories caused unbearable anxiety. The scenery out his window took him to that very place in time and he couldn't shake it.

For the hundredth time since he woke up, he looked toward the door, and no matter how many times he longingly looked at it he never stepped toward it. Darcy hadn't left his suite since noon yesterday. It was hard enough having to be surrounded by the cursed ugly brown bland desert, but what waited for him on the other side of his door he knew was just as bad – he didn't have it in him to entertain Charles and his unyielding sisters. His mind was not equipped yet to deal with that kind of socializing. He hated that such an inferior view could easily take him to that time he desperately didn't want his mind to go.

The gathering was another dread that Darcy wanted to avoid. Charles was throwing a neighborhood soirée later today and begged Darcy to join him. Due to Darcy's feeling of superiority, he couldn't say no to Charles for such a menial request.

 _Life is actually simple. Why do I insist on making it complicated?_ Darcy said aloud to his empty room.

* * *

ll*ll

* * *

"Did you send it Char?" After the twentieth text from my mother asking where the heck I was, I had Char answer her.

 _We are finally on our way._

We were running late by 30 minutes. Char had insisted I wear makeup, so I plopped myself down at the makeup section of a fancy department store and a young lady with too much glitter and gold shimmer on her face did my makeup. I'll blame Char if my mother thinks I look like a glittery shiny beast.

As we pulled into Nether Fields, I saw my mother. She was near the entrance and stomping her feet looking livid. Jean was right beside her attempting to calm her.

I strategically parked furthest from the entrance, as far from my screaming mother as I could. Regardless of the distance, unfortunately, I could still hear my mother from inside my truck. I let out a stifled laugh as my brain and legs both agree to remain in my truck.

 _Here comes the humiliation._

I inwardly thank God for the makeup and the cute bun up-do Char did for me.

"Are you okay Rocky? You look like you want to vomit."

I look toward my best friend in the beautiful pageant dress and grin. The taste of acid rises up to my throat and I immediately want to peel out of here. _I am in over my head_. I was not used to wearing heels and a dress-like outfit - AND makeup. It felt like I was going into war and had no weapons or vehicle, and a panic attack was beginning to bloom inside me. The reality that I'm not only wearing heels but caked on makeup feels uncomfortable and seeing my mother through my rearview mirror marching toward us didn't help my nerves.

"Rocky?"

Char shakes my arm. "What's wrong? Lizabet Raquel Benito, answer me right now? You're scaring me."

We both jump up - startled - as my mother bangs on my window.

The tint on my windows happily hides me from being seen.

Unfortunately, my truck was not sound proof and we heard everything my mother shouted, "GET out now Rocky. You better not be wearing a man suit."

Char's big doe eyes plead with me, "Rocky, we better get out now. People are staring."

I happily notice Jean gently pull my mother away from my truck dragging her back toward the front entrance of the restaurant.

My hands still glued to the steering wheel grip tighter as Char attempts to peel my fingers one by one away.

"Why are you being stupid Rocky? You've been to Iraq twice, you fought ISIS fighters, you roamed around the middle of Falluja with limited supplies, you were sent to fix multiple stranded Humvees numerous times in the middle of nowhere Iraq…should I continue? Let's not forget almost being captured in Afghanistan. This little gathering is a piece of cake."

I look toward my friend and stick out my tongue.

"Out…NOW Sergeant Benny. I thought you were hungry." She uses my nickname in the Marines – Benny shortened of course from Benito. Char quickly opens her door and exits before I can respond. Knowing me like she does, she stands at the end of my truck leaving me no exit unless I run out of here on foot.

 _Not in these heels and cute jumpsuit…Argh! I can do this. I've been to Iraq twice and Afghanistan once. I can do this._

I slowly step outside and the clank of my heels reminds me that I need to tread lightly. If I stomp around in these heels like I do with my boots, my feet will hate me in the morning and I'll probably destroy these cute heels.

I cringe as I continue to hear my mother's high-pitched voice shouting at me. I realize quickly that she's furious, as she begins to speak her native tongue which she never does.

My mother finally sees me as I reach Char, who stood frozen at the end of my truck. My mother's embarrassing screams always make Char nervous.

I look toward my mother who has now shut up. She gives me a "at-least-it's-not-pants" nod before walking in Nether Fields.

 _Ha! In your face Mother! I AM wearing pants._

As we reach Jean, she gives me a gentle hug. "Rocky. You look beautiful."

I take in Jean and Char's beautiful white ball gowns looking tight and cinched. I flash them a smirk knowing they were uncomfortable.

I shrug at Jeans complement and walk with my bestie and favorite sister into Nether Fields.

"Okay Guys, here's the run down so far. Charles Benally is such a gentleman. He has…"

I stopped listening as I noticed the twinkle in Jean's eyes. I didn't want her praise to muck up my opinion of him.

I simply smile at Jean as she carries on - "Charles" this and "Charles" that. The expression on her face glows brighter with every mention of his name, which worries me. It wasn't until Char poked me in the ribs and Jean had her tilted-head-puzzled look that I begin to focus on them again.

"What?" I sheepishly say.

"Lizbet Raquel did you hear a word I've said?" Jean lightly pinches my arm.

Char quickly rescues me, "We are listening Jean, tell us more about this Darcy Yoon."

"Well his family is from South Korea and they are multi-millionaires. He is 38-years-old and single. Darcy and Charles became friends in the Army, but Darcy was an Officer. He retired last year…"

Again, I tune out my sister as an Officer retiring at such a young age means something serious. Also, another thing I found odd was, why did millionaires join the Army in the first place.

"Ouch." I get pinched again but this time from Char – her pinches really hurt.

"You didn't hear a word I've said Lizbet."

I give Jean my best sad puppy dog eyes.

She dramatically sighs and becomes quiet as we enter the banquet room.

The double doors slowly open for us like in the movies and I can't help but roll my eyes the moment I see the many ridiculous events in front of me:

1\. My mother hovering around two tall good-looking men. I assume Charlie and Darcy.

2\. Linda and Kathy, each near the two men in question, flirting openly and shamelessly.

3\. The large banquet room, which should hold 200 people, currently only has about 40 people present making this soiree look small and boring.

4\. I'm the only woman not wearing a white ball gown.

Jean sighs and whispers to us, "Isn't he handsome?"

As if they heard her, the two men bow to my mother and sisters before turning to head our way.


	7. Chapter 7

Jean softy sighs, "Charles Benally, Mr. Yoon, this is my sister Rocky and her best friend Charlyne."

Charles and Darcy bow at us and I stick out my hand.

Both men just stared at my hand floating in the air waiting for another hand to shake it – my sad hand remained untouched for about 5 seconds. Finally, Charlie shakes it while looking amused. Out of nowhere Mr. Lucas, who is now standing next to Charles, uses this opportunity to talk about Char and her accomplishments. As the two gentlemen turn toward Mr. Lucas, who is now gushing about Char, I take this opportunity to size up our two new male acquaintances.

Both are tall, well over 6 foot. The more handsome of the two is Darcy. His flawless pale skin, light brown eyes, perfectly shaped eyebrows, and strategically coiffed short black hair told me he spent a lot of time in front of a mirror. _Is he wearing BB cream? Good grief!_ His dark blue suit looked immaculate and expensive. It was form fitting showcasing his muscular build. As for Charlie, he was also well put together, but it was Darcy who took the fancy cake. Charlie's shoulder length dark hair gave him a laidback surfer look. He didn't wear a suit but black slacks and a button up maroon shirt with no tie. Charlie also had the normal dark skin tone every native here in Arizona has.

As Mr. Lucas continued his Char praise, Darcy looked unamused and bored, which irritated me greatly.

 _That's my best friend, how dare you look bored… you pompous fancy cake._

Darcy felt my hard stare and in that instant his eyes shifted to me. All I could do was squint in defiance at him. A look of bewildered confusion crossed his face and I felt the satisfaction of winning the glaring contest with him.

Unfortunately, the fun ruin'er Jean noticed me glaring at Darcy and grabbed my arm lightly pulling me away. "You must be hungry Rocky, let's find a seat."

Now ignoring the pompous giraffe, we sat at a table (away from my mother) and I grabbed a menu only taking seconds to look and quickly flagging down a waiter. I ordered two of the most carb and protein filled plates – _I'm starving_.

My sister and I had about 10 minutes of "sister chatter bliss" before Charlie and Darcy came to our table.

"Miss Jean, is this seat taken?" Charlie pointed at the seat on Jeans left side; I was sitting on her right. Each round table had seven chairs and our table had 5 empty ones.

"Of course Charles."

"Thank you."

Darcy, the pompous Giraffe, without asking smugly sat in the chair directly in front of me, one empty chair away from Charlie and two away from me. I glared at him again.

"Rocky, what did you order?" _Real sneaky Jean - grabbing my attention again so I wouldn't glare at Darcy._

I look toward Jean and arrogantly answer, "Two plates of the Steak and potatoes, why?"

She looks at me horrified. She inches near me and whispers, "That's a lot of food Rocky."

I mock her, loudly whispering, "But I'm starving – my 7 a.m. breakfast digested hours ago." I blow her a small air kiss and hear a snorted stifled laugh in front of me. Before I can glare at Darcy, Mr. Lucas loudly announces that Char needed to sit in between Charles and Darcy. Char looked absolutely mortified. I give Char a sympathetic look.

 _Darcy better be nice to her or I'll throw one of my steaks at his perfect face._

* * *

l*l

* * *

Darcy Yoon heard Charles leave with relief. Five minutes ago, he had texted Charles to head to the banquet room without him and was thankful Charles complied without question. Darcy was still rooted in place in front of the huge window in his suite.

 _I'll conquer this. I WILL! -_ he shouted in his head.

Darcy's toes were starting to feel tingly, his vision was becoming blurry, his heart was racing which now made his fingers start to tingle. The tingling was a bad sign. His anxiety was getting worse. He glanced down at his suit and wanted to rip if off and didn't care if he damaged the extremely expensive Brioni Vanquish dark blue suit. It had cost him $45,000.

He began to unbutton the jacket and in one swift motion his jacket was off and thrown on his bed. He began to loosen his tie and stopped.

In Darcy's right hand, he was rotating his phone over and over again. He wanted to call Clemson to fix this. Samuel Clemson always knew what to do. His assistant was paid well for the all hour interruptions. Clemson was probably having dinner with his girlfriend right about now in Los Angeles. Darcy glared at the spinning phone he gripped in his hand and when it stopped upright quickly pressed his finger to the "button" that needed his fingerprint. He immediately pressed the contacts icon. To a stranger, Darcy's phone would've looked pitiful with one sole contact, but Darcy purposely wanted it like that. Clemson fixed everything – he dealt with everything Darcy didn't want or need to, which was why Darcy needed no other contact on his phone.

The moment Darcy heard the phone ringing he instantly placed it to his ear.

"Yo!" Clemson's disquiet unsurprising to Darcy was accompanied with what sounded like a mouth full of food and Darcy groaned. Clemson never had manners, at least none that Darcy ever saw. No matter that Clemson was technically speaking with the Boss, Clemson was clueless to etiquette of any kind. What Clemson did have was loyalty, heart, practicality, and bravado, things Darcy valued greatly. Clemson also knew damn well that Darcy would never fire him.

Darcy began to wiggle his toes and he drew in a deep breath. Darcy's eleven-out-of-ten anxiety level went down about 2 notches.

"Kid, I need you to change my flight to one week earlier…and next time pick up the damn phone without food in your mouth. Were you raised in a barn or something?"

"As a matter of fact, I was raised in a trailer park…and if you don't want to hear me eat, I would suggest you quit calling me during dinnertime." Darcy heard the smile that Clemson was probably flashing to his girlfriend.

Darcy let out a dramatic sigh and his anxiety went done two more notches. "Just do what I ask. I would like to leave Monday morning next week." Routine, it was the routine that calmed Darcy. Calling Clemson was routine– if Darcy closed his eyes he could picture himself looking out at his beach horizon view standing in front of his open folding door in his Malibu Colony Beach home.

"But boss, what about Charles?"

"Change of plans Sam. I need to get out of here."

Samuel Clemson heard it this time, the anxiety in Darcy's voice and the fact that he called him Sam.

"You okay Boss?"

Darcy smiled, he always liked the southern Kentucky twang Clemson had. It calmed Darcy for some odd reason. Darcy also knew there was never any judgement from the kid – Samuel Clemson would never judge Darcy's PTSD, his decisions, his appearance, his fortune, or his misgivings. Clemson met Darcy in the Army and even though Clemson was not in Darcy's battalion, Darcy had great respect for Clemson. Darcy knew that he would always be in debt to him…and of course to Charles, and he didn't mind a bit.


	8. Chapter 8

Wonderwoman1970 - Eek! Sorry, actually this next chapter was supposed to be part of the previous one, but then I realized it was too long and thought I should split it and make it a next chapter. I will not make that mistake again. 😊 Thank you for your review.

Thank you Kat and Guests for your reviews as well. 😊

Question: I was never gonna put Darcy's view in here, but now I kinda like it. I don't know if I should keep writing his "view?" Yes/No :\

Okay enough. Here goes…

* * *

Dinner was uneventful. Charlie was funny and an absolute gentleman.

After finishing my two small plates of food, I finished off Jean's salad. Steak and potatoes my left foot. It was more like two slivers of thinly sliced brisket with six gourmet cut steak fries. I was very disappointed.

Happily, though, the dinner wasn't too ruined as I noticed Charlie dote on Jean and I couldn't help but like him. He won me over.

His friend on the other hand, was quiet and smug. It wasn't until Charlie's two sisters begged Darcy to sit with them did he show any kind of emotion other than disgust and boredom. When he removed himself from our table the atmosphere instantly uplifted and we were the happiest table in the room.

 _Good riddance Darcy, you Dark cloud._

* * *

l*l

* * *

The moment Darcy ended his call with Clemson, he had his jacket back on and his tie fixed, and with sheer preeminence marched himself outside the manor and toward the restaurant.

Sadly, it didn't take long for Darcy's "preeminence" to evaporate. Darcy was tensely clutching his phone to a point he was scared to have damaged it. He wanted to call Clemson back right this second to demand to leave tonight.

Darcy had the displeasure to not only be surrounded by two exhausting women with the last name Benito, but also their mother who was hovering behind them singing praises of their mediocre accomplishments. Darcy was, however, slightly thankful for the diversion. He was so irritated with this entire situation that his anxiety of being surrounded by desert was momentarily forgotten.

Being surrounded by woman wasn't new to Darcy – he's had lots of experience with being encircled by woman and mothers trying to get their hooks into him. He knew he was a catch – his money, good looks, and upbringing was undoubtably rare, especially around areas like this; rural and deprived. In Darcy's opinion, they were deprived of class, superior education, and power.

After twenty minutes of hearing nonsense from the Benito women, Darcy was on the verge of excusing himself from the party.

With Charles now next to him, Darcy was about the explain his sooner-than-expected departure when the double doors to the banquet room opened grabbing the attention of their noxious circle.

In a sea of white hideous wedding dresses, Darcy was unable to look away from the woman in the bright yellow dress. _No pant suit? No jumper? No…what the hell was she wearing,_ Darcy thought.

To Darcy, she was not beautiful, she was not ugly, she was not even average. He couldn't even pinpoint why he was unable to look away from her face. She was dark, had sharp almond shaped eyes, a button nose, and full lips – a combination that seemed to not fit with her round face, but yet he couldn't look away. Charles diverted Darcy's attention by softly announcing that Jean was back. Darcy noticed that Jean was standing next to the woman in the yellow outfit.

Charles and Darcy both bowed to the Benito mother and her offspring and walked toward Jean and her friends.

Darcy heard Jean introduce her as Rocky and was instantly puzzled.

 _What kind of name was Rocky for a woman,_ Darcy reflected.

Her hand shot out for a handshake and Darcy stood there dumbfounded. _Was she making a business deal to blatantly demand a handshake_ , Darcy thought.

It was at this moment Mr. Lucas interrupted them introducing his daughter and explaining all the unexceptional things she did and accomplished. For the second time today, Darcy had to hear another parent's praise. If he wasn't married by now, shouldn't they know it was deliberate. He angerly thought why on earth would he want to be tied down to someone, especially some country bumpkin like these peasants.

As the Charlyne praise by Mr. Lucas continued, Darcy couldn't help but look again toward Rocky. His brain was telling him to ignore her presence but his eyes wanted another look. Their two eyes locked and his new acquaintance glared at him - she squinted at him in repulsion. Even though he was surprised by such boldness, he couldn't help but focus on her face. She had clusters of freckles lightly peppering her checks and the bridge of her nose. He felt the need to trace them with his finger. Confused by this feeling, he quickly looked away and focused on Mr. Lucas and his puffy red face.

Darcy for the first time in his life was completely puzzled and intrigued by a woman. He also didn't understand why she was not falling at his feet like all the others. He knew she was a woman who was neither beautiful or rich, a woman who was not in his class, a woman who seemed to have no positive attributes whatsoever, so why was she ignoring him?

He tried with all his might to not look at her again for the remainder of the evening.

* * *

l*l

* * *

 _Wow, the restroom in this place is not only gigantic, but palace-like. I guess rich people like to poop in luxury._

As I washed my hands, I heard them on the other side of the wall. I quickly turn off the water and place my ear closer to the wall on my left. On the other side was the hallway that led to the men's restroom. I recognized the voice, it was Charlie.

"She is absolutely beautiful Darcy. I've never seen anyone that beautiful."

"I agree to that Charles, but a nurse."

It took everything in me not to yell toward the wall at that pompous fancy cake – how dare he insult my sister's profession.

"What on earth does that mean Darcy?" _You tell him Charlie, let him have it._

"I mean no disrespect Charles. I simply meant she'll work long hours, work holidays, and…"

At this point, I was only able to hear muffled noises, forcing me to press my ear on the actual wall.

"…well, you can say what you want Darcy – she's an angel and I'd like to know her better. How have you fared? Did you make a connection?"

"Ha! Among these left-over urchins. No thank you. Besides, I am not here to find anyone. The only reason I've not stormed out of here is because you are my good friend. I support this new business venture you've made."

"C'mon Darcy. Jean's sisters are all beautiful. What about Rocky?"

"HA! Don't insult me. How could you even consider that thing for me? Not only does she have caveman manners, but she has no class. Her dress, if you can call it that, looks off the rack. I thought you had a strict dress code here? How can you even consider her good enough for someone like me?"

Without my Jean to calm me, I punch the wall and create a small dent making the beautiful gold embroidered wallpaper warp where my fist landed.

"What was that?" Charlie's voice fades away and I am no longer able to hear them as they walk away from my hearing.

I splash water on my face in an attempt to calm myself. It doesn't work.

I glare at my reflection in the mirror as I dry my face with a fancy hand towel. I rub 80% of the shimmer makeup off and remove the light pink lip color. If he is to insult me, it will be because of me, the natural me. Not the made up me – the trained monkey my mother wants.

 _Calling us left-over urchins. How dare he? Calling me a Thing? Does he know what I had to go through to get here? I'm not good enough for someone like him? What does that mean? Like I'd want him in the first place._ _Stuck up fancy pants._

Still fuming, I exit the bathroom and head in the opposite direction of the banquet room. The moment the dry Arizona air hits me, my nerves ease. I'm halfway to my truck when my phone starts to ring. It's my father's ring tone. I fish out my phone from one of the handy pockets this lovely jumpsuit has and quickly answer it.

"Pops?"

"Coyote, where are you? I need you."

"I'm outside. I'll be right there." I hear him grunt a laugh when I said I was outside, but all I can think about is that my father needs me.

For my Pop's, I would expose myself to anything dangerous, life-threatening, or humiliating. So, without hesitation, I walk right back into the pit of hell.


	9. Chapter 9

Currently listen to Selofan – In the darkness 😊

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* * *

.

The double doors of the banquet room were already open when I stormed in looking for my Pops. _So much for the Hollywood entrance again._ To my right was a mass of white fluffy fabric clustered together. All the women were huddled around Charlie's two sisters – it looked as though my family and friends were gushing over the gowns of Charlie's sisters. Their gowns were "cream" colored. For the life of me, I tried to remember their names. _Candy, Claire, Carmen, Cadberry, Cranberry – hmmm…I don't remember and don't care._ They have the same snooty attitude Darcy carried with him and I could do without them here.

While receiving all the positive envious attention for their gowns, I couldn't help but notice their smug expressions with the occasional eye roll. If you ask me, when I first saw their dresses floating around the room, the color reminded me of urine stained fabric. _Take that you_ _highfalutin_ _wenches_.

My eyes then land on the one face that stared right back at me. Char, who was near the gaggle of women, scowled at me fuming with anger.

 _Oops!_ By her murderous glare, she knows I had initially left without telling her/without her.

I give her an "it wasn't me" shrug and she shakes her head furiously at me. Her nonverbal headshake spoke volumes, it said, "If you ever leave me again like that, I will shave off your eyebrows and superglue the tiny hairs to your upper lip."

I salute her with a peace sign before marching over to my Pops.

My Pops, Mr. Lucas, Charlie, Darcy Fancy Pants, and Mr. Che and his two adult sons were all huddled around one of the round tables in the far end of the banquet room.

Thinking the worst, I quickly walk right to my father.

"Papa. Que paso? Como te sietes?" (Father. What's wrong? How do you feel?) I knew none of our neighbors spoke Spanish and I assumed Charlie the Navajo and Darcy the Korean-American didn't speak Spanish either. If my father was feeling ill, I didn't want any of them knowing.

"Nada Mija, ven aca. Mira." (Nothing Daughter, come here. Look.) He points to the table.

In front of my father and what everyone was huddled around, was the biggest iPad I've ever seen. The iPad had a website open showing a map, specifically a map of our neighborhood, even more specifically a MGRS Grid and Coordinates map.

My father looked at Charles, "My daughter was a map reader in the Marines. She'll help us with the specific land boundaries."

"You're a Marine Rocky? You were a Navigation specialist." Charlie's sincere smile warmed me inside. I nodded.

"That wasn't my actual post, but I was the expert map reader in my Mobile Assault Platoon. In the Marines, I majored as a mechanic and minored in navigational management." I gave Charles a wink at the nonofficial military titles. "We trekked through the outskirts of Falluja and Kabul with ease because of me and never got lost. More importantly we never were stranded with a broke down Humvee because of me." I gave Charlie another quick wink as a military man like him would know about broke down Humvees in Iraq/Afghanistan.

His eyes widened at the mention of Falluja, "Falluja was extremely dangerous and hostile terrain."

I simply nodded and my father cuts the small talk. "Okay Rocky get to mapping girl."

* * *

"Char. Are you okay?"

Char's quietness upset me. I don't like seeing her like this. As soon as she entered my truck, I knew something was bothering her.

She let out a stifled cry, "I'm so embarrassed Rocky. My father was so embarrassing."

"Your father was fine. I think my mother took the gold with embarrassing her children."

She glared at me.

"We are in our late 30's Rocky, why can't they leave us alone?"

"Because Char, they come from a time where you grow up, get married, have children, and then raise grandchildren. Period! In their time, working single women were considered the bottom of the barrel women. In their eyes, unmarried childless women in their 30's are spinsters."

Horrified and wide-eyed, my best friend blinked back tears.

 _Oopsy, I better fix this._

"Spinster is an old term Char. It was created to scare woman into settling down. A man who didn't marry was and is called a Bachelor – not at all insulting as Spinster. Also, a woman who sleeps around without marrying is called a slut/whore/hussy, but what are men called: A man. You see how one-sided it was back then and that is the era our parents and their parents were raised in. Sadly, all these generations later nothing really has changed or evolved according to our parents."

"Fine you're right, but what saved you was the slut comment. A man who sleeps around gets a pat on the back, but women are ridiculed and censured – not fair."

I nodded. "Enough about you and your Pops, need I remind you what that asinine Darcy said about me...about us?"

* * *

l*l

* * *

Charles, Carol, Louise, and Darcy were now in the white room each doing their best to relax after such an interesting evening. The white room was the biggest quarters at Nether Fields Manor and they all had space to decompress.

Louise was playing La Campanella on the Grand Fazioli Piano. Carol was standing near Darcy trying not to gawk at him. She had stared at him all evening. She thought he looked exquisite in his suit. Darcy stood in front of the large window that was the length of the entire room staring out into the dark desert. He was replaying the entire evening back in his head. He began to pace with a Carol-Shadow behind him. Carol noticed his limp, she had also noticed him limping while at the restaurant—she didn't dare ask him why he was limping. She knew he tried so hard to hide it.

Darcy was usually successful with hiding his limp, he didn't want anyone knowing the truth, a truth that only two people in his circle knew about. Today, however, he was having a hard time hiding his secret and it was because of the pain.

Charles sat on one of the uncomfortable couches in the White room – placed there as a show piece and not for comfort. Charles was writing and deleting a text message. He was on his eleventh draft but couldn't quite capture the poetic words he wanted to express to Jean. He had been mesmerized by her and he wanted to write the most perfect words. They had exchanged numbers right before Jean left for the evening with her family.

Charles finally looked up from his phone and noticed a limping Darcy pacing the room.

"Darcy, can you please come here and read this for me? I need your advice." Charles patted the spot next to him. Charles knew that if he had mentioned anything regarding Darcy's limp or show any concern for him, Darcy would excuse himself from the room completely. Darcy didn't like to feel or seem weak in front of anyone.

Darcy stopped in his tracks and turned toward Charles who he noticed was glaring at his phone furiously typing. Without hesitation he began to walk toward Charles almost bumping into Carol who he didn't notice was right behind him.

"Why do you need Darcy's help to write a text Charles? I hope you are NOT writing to any of the Benito daughters." Carol said while scowling at Darcy who slowly walked to Charles before sitting next to him. Louise chimed in by loudly saying she had seen better manners and prettier faces at Skid Row. Darcy laughed, but Charles looked up from his phone before announcing that all the Benito daughters were beautiful and delightful.

"Charles you surprise me. I saw no beauty in their dark faces at all." Charles lifted one eyebrow at Carol but didn't remark that they were all dark except for Darcy.

"You agree with me don't you Darcy."

"I do indeed. Although, Jean is a beauty. It's unfortunate she's a part of THAT family. Backwoods manners and no class, and let's not even mention the MOTHER." Darcy heartbeat thumped rapidly in his chest the moment Rocky crossed his mind.

Carol and Louise each laugh at Darcy's remarks, "What about Rocky, Darcy? The locals also call her a beautiful Benito daughter."

Thumpthumpthumpthump, Darcy's heart raced betraying him and he became angry.

"Locals, what locals call her a beauty? I don't know what was worse her manners, her dress, or her peculiar face?"

"Never mind all of you. I'll not let you taint my high respect for the Benito family." Without another word and with his phone still clutched in his hand typing, Charles left the room.

* * *

l*l

* * *

"Can you believe he has all that money and no manners Mr. Benito? How dare he look down on us? How dare he call my daughters urchins? Rocky even dressed up today and he called her a Thing."

Earlier at Nether Fields, my mother saw how impressed all the men were as I was "mapping," so my self-assured mother took this opportunity to try and pull me toward Darcy. I immediately decided to inform her what that ass-hat said about us. My mother was livid. Although, what really upset her was the "urchin" comment involving her beloved Linda.

"He insulted my Coyote." My father took this in deep thought as we all walked in the house after the gathering.

"I would not talk to him again if I were you Rocky." Yelled my mother as she stomped to her room.

I looked at Jean, "I swear I'll never see that jerk again, so I can honestly promise I'll never speak to him again."

As Jean and I walk toward my room, we hear Linda and Kat snicker about how embarrassing it was to be called urchins and even more humiliating to be called a Thing like I was.

I ignored them and continued to debate with Jean as to why Charles would be friends with such an asinine ass-hat.


End file.
